by Misty Evans
Will came across the yard. “Buggin’ out?”
“Seems our stranger was in the house. He left Emma a little gift.”
“Ah, shit. What was it?”
Mitch held up the bagged toy. “Not a lot of doubt in my mind who’s behind this.”
“That actor guy, huh?” Will frowned and rubbed his chin. “Doesn’t seem like the type to hike around in the woods, does he?”
“I’d go looking for him and whatever vehicle he got here in, but her safety comes first.”
“Not much traffic getting in and out of the valley from what I’ve heard on the CB. Think he came in on foot?”
“Dangerous with the fires and smoke.”
Will nodded, looked off in the distance. “Bastard. He had to have transport, but you can’t just drive around out there. I didn’t find anything for tracks, human or motorized, but I’ll take another look, see if I find anything that hints at horses or motorcycles.”
Motorcycles. He needed to get back to hunting down his arsonist. “Might not have been Goodsman, but one of his fans who believes he’s a resistance fighter. They’re into survival shit, right? You may be spot on that he hiked in and out. Either way, Emma’s finally decided to go to the safe house. She’s worried about you and the horses.”
Will grunted and patted the dog who was attached to his leg. “I can handle myself against some milquetoast, pansy actor or anyone who thinks they’re part of his resistance fighters. Tell her not to worry. The horses and I will be fine.”
The two men shook hands and Mitch went inside.
Emma was waiting, overnight bag in hand. “Will’s going to stay?”
“He is,” Mitch said, gathering up the file on Goodsman. The last of the cookie went into his mouth. “You ready?”
She took a long look around at the kitchen, then walked into the living room and took down her shotgun. Meeting Mitch’s eyes, she nodded. “Ready.”
Maybe the old Emma was back. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he opened the front door and scanned the area. Satisfied all was clear, he motioned her outside. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
“Sorry, agent.” The state trooper looked haggard, deep creases around his eyes and bracketing his mouth as he studied Mitch’s credentials. “Roads west and south are closed because of the fires.”
Emma sighed silently, feeling slightly claustrophobic at the mass of cars and people. All four lanes in both directions were backed up. No one was moving.
“What about north?” Mitch said.
“Ten-car pile-up five miles from here has shut down evacuation efforts for now.”
Her bodyguard gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “How soon before it’s cleaned up?”
“Could be hours. Lot of people injured, possible fatality from what I heard on the radio. Emergency medical personnel can’t get to them because of this traffic jam and they’re already tied up with other casualties.”
Emma wondered if she would have to pry Mitch’s fingers from the leather-covered wheel. He held his agitation in tight, most likely from his training but possibly a learned response from his upbringing.
His gray eyes cut to the jam-packed road of cars and trucks stretching from one horizon to the other, back to the trooper. “Thank you, officer.”
He wheeled the truck around and they headed back toward the way they’d come, going off-road to get around the tangle of cars trying to merge onto the highway.
“What now?” Emma asked. “Back to the ranch?”
“We passed a motel a mile back, didn’t we?”
“The Lazy 8? I wouldn’t board my horse there.”
“Goodsman and Brown wouldn’t suspect you’re there either, I’m guessing.”
Her cell rang and she jumped, not expecting a call, especially since the towers were so hit and miss. “It’s from the ranch,” she said checking the ID.
“You’ve got service?”
“3G, but yes.”
He wheeled farther off the road and parked, pulling out his cell as she answered.
Will sounded out of breath when she answered. “I’ve got a problem,” he said. “I wouldn’t have called, but…”
“You saw the stranger again?”
“No, not him. It’s Second Chance.”
Emma’s stomach plunged. In her peripheral vision, she saw Mitch do a fist pump as his call must have connected. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s listless. Keeps sitting on her haunches and won’t let Hope nurse. I called the vet, but she can’t get out here. Said the roads are shut down.”
“They are.”
“Hell in a hand basket, I’m so sorry.”
She so didn’t need this right now. “Will, this is not your fault.”
“I’m cursed, Emma.”
“You’re not cursed, for Heaven’s sake.”
Mitch bailed out of the truck, but the driver side window was still down from his conversation with the deputy. “Coop?” she heard him say. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to get through to you and Dupé. We can’t get out. I finally convinced Miss Bullheaded to split, and now we’re stuck. The highway’s jammed front to back.”
Miss Bullheaded? He should talk.
“What do you want me to do?” Will said. Panic laced his voice. “I keep urging her to her feet, but she never stays long, and she’s completely off her feed. I have no idea what’s wrong.”
Post-foaling problems ran the gambit. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. If it was, they were in trouble with no vet to help them out. “We’ll be back in a little bit. We can’t get out of the area anyway. Try to keep her up and moving if you can.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They disconnected. Emma continued to eavesdrop on Mitch’s conversation. He’d brought his boss up to date on the stranger who’d paid them a visit. “…couldn’t pick up any tracks. No idea how the guy got there or got away. Maybe he didn’t. Gordon’s a survivalist. He and this guy both may still be hanging around in the forest. The fires traveled west and north. It’s burned a lot of acres so far, but there are still thousands untouched.”
Tension coiled low in her stomach. The best way in and out of the valley at a time like this was on a horse. Did Chris know how to ride?
“I’m shooting for a hotel that’s not far from the ranch,” Mitch said. “That’s my only choice.”
Think about Second Chance, not yourself.
Emma leaned toward the open window. It was easier to focus on Second Chance than herself. “We’re going back to the ranch. My new mother is having problems and our vet can’t get out to see her. I need to check her out.”
Mitch covered the end of the phone with his hand. “We’re not going back to the ranch.” He removed his hand and spoke to the man on the phone again. “Yeah, I took a look at the maps Dupé sent and the video footage from the park. Our pyro probably had someone inside who helped him.”
“Agent Holden, this is serious,” Emma spoke over him. “We need to get back to the ranch. Second Chance could die.”
This time he ignored her as he spoke into the phone. “I need to see the ignition site, but evidence will be hard to come by since the fire probably burned up any that the arsonist left behind.”
People in the cars across from them stared at her and watched Mitch as he paced beside the truck door. The tension in her stomach pulled tighter, a wire about to break. What if Chris and Linda were in one of the cars out here, watching them?
“Please get back in the truck,” Emma said to Mitch.
He must have heard the trepidation in her voice. He leaned down, cocked a brow at her.
“Please,” she said again. “We need to go.”
“You’re kidding.” But he wasn’t talking to her. He was responding to something his boss had said. “Dammit. Should have figured that. Is there any way you can get a helo out to the ranch? Lots of National Guard in the area. Take her out that way?”
He listened, sliding into
the truck seat and shifting into drive. Emma’s rapid pulse slowed a fraction. Her stomach was still tied in knots.
The truck shot forward. Mitch blew out a disappointed sigh. “Yeah, I know, I waited too goddamn late. We’ll hunker down at the ranch until Dupé can scare up transportation. Hell, I’d take an army transport at this point… Yeah, I’ll handle it. Trust me…” He glanced over at her. “The good doctor here is one tough lady. She can handle a gun, a horse, and herself. Chris Goodsman tries anything, he’ll have to get through me. If he manages that, Dr. Collins will still kick his ass.”
The compliment made her flush. She looked away, studied the weeds and wildflowers lining the frontage road. The valley lay just ahead, gray clouds of smoke lingering on the horizon.
Mitch disconnected after a few more comments. “Hotel’s booked, according to Coop, so we’re out of options.”
“No matter. I need to get back to my horses.”
“What’s wrong with Second Chance?”
“I don’t know. Will said, all of a sudden, she’s gone off her feed and keeps sitting on the ground. Could be something serious.”
“You sure you’re alright staying at the ranch?”
The toy version of Tom Monahan sat in its plastic evidence bag between them in the cup holder. A part of her wanted to toss it out the window. The other wanted to make Chris Goodsman eat it.
“I’m fine.”
Mitch said nothing more until they were back in front of her house. It took longer to get back, since they had to go against the flow of traffic, but they made it, Will waving to them from the pasture where he was attempting to lead Second Chance around. She balked at the harness, trying to back away from him.
The dogs jumped out of the back and went to greet Lady. Emma left her overnight bag for later and started to follow.
“Okay.” Mitch scanned the area, seeming satisfied there were no strangers. Still, he pulled his gun from its holster and flipped off the safety. “Let’s go see about this horse.”
They started across the yard toward Will. “I hope it’s nothing serious or we’re in for a long, sad night,” Emma said. “If Second Chance didn’t expel all of the placenta or has a uterine tear, there’s nothing I can do for her. We’ll probably lose her.”
“Yeah, about that,” Mitch said, as he continued to sweep the surrounding area with his focused attention. “I can probably help.”
“It’s colic,” Mitch told his eager audience. He’d checked Second Chance’s vital signs and listened to her gut sounds. The only thing left was a rectal exam.
He could hardly wait.
Rubbing a forearm across his forehead, he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth. “Probably due to stress from foaling.”
“Colic.” Emma gave a nod. “Is that all?”
“Colic can be serious.” He wiped his hands on his pants, gave the horse’s belly a pat. “Depends on what type it is. If it’s impaction or displacement colic, she needs surgery. If it’s a gas buildup, I can relieve that with a tube.”
“We’ve got one of them naso tube thingies,” Will said. “Will that help?”
Mitch wanted to say no. Why was he doing this? “Nasogastric?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Doc Jane left it here with some meds early on in Second Chance’s pregnancy in case the horse had bowel issues.”
“She show you how to use it by any chance?”
“She did.”
Looked like he would at least have help saving the damn horse. “Go get it. The meds too.”
Will trotted off to the other end of the barn. Emma crossed her arms and gave Mitch a curious stare.
“What?” he said.
“You know a lot about horses, Agent Holden.”
This wasn’t his job. He shouldn’t be worried about this horse instead of Dr. Collins, but something in him wanted to save the damn animal just for her. “Cleaned my share of stalls growing up.”
She entered the stall and rubbed Second Chance’s nose. “You grew up on a ranch?”
“Sort of.”
When he didn’t come forth with anything else, she chuckled. “Seems like you picked up more than the basics of cleaning stalls if you can diagnose what’s wrong with a horse.”
“I’m no vet, just seen a lot of this sort of thing. Sweating, bloating, the sitting down. Classic signs of colic.”
“When I brought you out here the other night, you acted like you didn’t care for horses. You said you’d never ridden a horse.”
“I said I rode motorcycles.” He leaned against the rail. “And you’re right, I don’t care for horses.”
Her brow furrowed as she stroked Second Chance’s ears and jaw. “How is that possible? How can you not appreciate these beautiful creatures?”
Will returned, saving him from talking about it, handing him the medication. “Will this help?”
Banamine. Good enough. “Yep. Let’s get that tube in her, see if we can get the gas and fluid accumulation out. Then we’ll administer a dose of this stuff.”
Guiding a stomach tube into a horse’s nose and down her esophagus into her stomach was not exactly a walk in the park. She fought them for a good, long time, and Mitch didn’t blame her.
Will managed to get the back flow of gas going and she settled down. Probably because she was finally getting relief.
Thank the stars. He wouldn’t have to do a rectal.
He wrapped things up, giving the horse a dose of the meds through the tube. Then they removed it.
Second Chance seemed like her old self, moving around without issues and nuzzling Mitch’s shoulder as he wound up the long, flexible hose. Hope was nursing a minute later.
“That’s amazing,” Emma said, smiling at him and Will. She stood on the lower rung of the railing, her arms propped on the top, looking over at the horses. “You two make a good team.”
Will blushed and hustled off, muttering, “Better go do my perimeter check. I’ll be back in twenty to see about her.”
Mitch needed a shower. As he backed out of the stall, he also wished for a decent change of clothes.
“You ready to head in?” Emma said.
“More than ready.”
Night had fallen once more. Mitch readied his weapon and kept Emma behind him as they made their way to the house. Salt and Pepper waited on the porch.
He let her follow him through the house, her tiny gun in her hand as they made sure the place was clear. In her bedroom, the last room they went into, she stared at the nightstand and rubbed her gun arm with her empty hand.
“You okay?” Mitch asked.
She nodded without looking at him. “Why don’t you grab a shower. I’ll make us some food.”
His stomach seconded that idea. A beer would be good too. “Stay clear of the windows, don’t open the door for anyone but Will.”
Turning on her heel, she headed for the stairs. “The clothes I laid out for you are still in the bathroom. You’re smelling pretty ripe. Might want to wash the clothes you have on. Toss them out the door and I’ll throw them in the wash.”
It had been a damn long time since a woman had taken care of him. “I appreciate it.”
A simple dip of her chin and she disappeared down the stairs, slow and deliberate as if she were descending into the depths of hell. Salt and Pepper sat on the landing, watching her. Both dogs turned in unison to look at him.
“Go,” he muttered and jerked his head toward her.
In a scramble of toenails, wagging tails, and panting, the two Labs took off.
In the bathroom, he stripped down, turned on the shower, and eyed the clothes neatly folded on the sink. Who did they belong to? Unanswered questions made him nuts.
Why do you care?
He tossed his dirty clothes outside like Emma had instructed, then leaned his forehead against the closed door. He hadn’t cared about much of anything or anyone in long, long time. He’d buried himself in work to keep from thinking about the things—the people—he didn’t have. Could never ha
ve again.
Loneliness swamped him. Irony too. All the places he’d been in recent years that would have been great spots to settle down and grow roots, yet he’d run from every one of them.
Dupé and Harris had offered him a permanent spot on the taskforce, which was the perfect job for him, but he’d turned them down. Need, impulse, drive…something kept him on the move. Now here he was, stalled on his latest case and needing to get Emma off the ranch and to safety so he could get back to finding the arsonist, and all he wanted at that moment was to stay.
The water was hot, the soap smelled like Emma. Citrusy. But now that he was rubbing it on him, he realized it was lemongrass—which was far better than something girly.
He made quick work of cleaning himself up, not wanting to leave Emma for long. Even though Will hadn’t seen anymore of their stranger, the guy could still be out there.
The clothes were too tight for his liking, but they would do until his own were clean and dry again. A hunger pang struck and he finger combed his wet hair.
He hadn’t had time to go through the Goodsman file or work up his own profile of the guy. Was Emma right? Was Goodsman just a damned good actor, or was there merit to the idea that he was psychologically unbalanced enough to buy into his fictitious identity as Tom Monahan? His motivation to break out of jail was viable, except wasting his freedom to come after her seemed out of character. Like Will had mentioned, a spoiled, rich actor on the lam didn’t suddenly turn into a survivalist who traipsed through forest fires to get revenge on the psychologist who’d petitioned against his release.
On the other hand, if Goodsman truly believed he was Tom Monahan, leader of the Resistance, he just might.
Mitch jogged downstairs, the smell of a home-cooked meal filling his nose. Meat, potatoes, yeasty rolls. Damn, he hadn’t had anything that good since his last Sunday meal with his mother.
Which had been at least three years ago.
The dogs were stationed by the back door, Emma humming over a cutting board where she chopped vegetables and threw them in a skillet with beef tips. A glass of wine sat on the counter by her side, a soup pot filled with cut-up potatoes simmering on the stove. The light inside the oven revealed the rolls he had smelled.
